And Laughter

You think there are things that will never result in a smile or laughter. But children always manage to surprise you.

As part of our healing after losing Maya, we have spent a lot of time talking with Aidan about how we can remember Maya. Yesterday Aidan came up to me and announced that he had thought up a whole new way we can remember Maya. And then he held up a pile of black hair he had found on the floor.

In an excited tone, he continues: "See Mom? We can remember Maya through her hair that we have all over the floors and carpet. There's TONS of it!"

And in spite of myself, I laughed so hard I had tears in my eyes.

Maya

We put Maya to sleep today. She was in so much pain and just wasn't herself anymore. She cried and moaned all day long, ate very little and snapped at Brennan when he accidentally fell on her. It was something we had to do, but it is still something so very difficult and sad.

Maya was a part of our family. Before children, she was my constant companion. We took walks together every day - sometimes twice a day. When we lived in Connecticut, our favorite thing to do was wake up early and walk to the beach. Maya would run wild on the sand, chasing seagulls and jumping into the water to swim.

Maya helped me survive the summer when Chris had to go to Colorado for two months for a fantastic opportunity to work with IBM. She kept me company and helped me survive the loneliness.

While we miss her, the hardest part of losing Maya is dealing with the loss through the hearts of our children. Aidan just sobbed when Chris told him Maya had died and was in doggie heaven. Brennan asks several times a day, "Where'd my doggie go? Where's Maya?". The navigation of parenthood is never easy, but explaining death and loss to a two and four year old is almost impossible. But we try. We talk openly about the loss to both boys. We framed pictures of Aidan with Maya for his room. And we just listen to their questions and fears, hoping that we are giving the "right" answers at least part of the time.

We described doggie heaven as a place where Maya could run free chasing birds, barking to her heart's content, and eating all the treats she wanted. That's how we all will remember her.

Intervention

If you ever see me sporting a sweatshirt embroidered with "soccer mom" or some other similar saying, you officially have my permission to shred the sweatshirt and sit me down for a nice intervention.

I can handle the fact that I spend most of my life in sweatpants and t-shirts and that I have only worn make up once in the past seven weeks. It's okay that my hair currently resides permanently in a pony tail. I can even deal with the reality that a hot Friday night in our house is when Chris and I BOTH manage to stay awake for an entire DVD. I understand and accept that a glass and a half of wine is enough to make me drunk. But - if I ever, EVER believe that it is acceptable to break out a "soccer mom" sweatshirt, then it means that I have just totally given up. It's intervention time.

I just hope the poor mom from the Y today that was proudly wearing her "I'm a Soccer Mom" sweatshirt has some nice friends who will hand her a glass of wine and shred that damn sweatshirt. That's all I'm sayin.

Loyal Fans

My brother Travis's girlfriend hails from Michigan and to welcome Baby Griffin she gave us a Detroit Red Wings baby outfit. (GASP.) In response, we took the following photos of the boys:







Thanks to Grandma JoJo for keeping the boys in Sabres gear.

The Dementia of Motherhood

I have never been a completely "together" type of person. I long to be that person, but unfortunately, it's just not going to happen. Motherhood has thrown me into a whole new level of abject confusion - and with each child, I swear I lose a little more of my mind. Recent examples of my maternal dementia:

After a work related phone call last week, I ended the call with a high pitched mommy "bye bye."

I regularly leave the house with toothpaste smeared on the corners of my mouth. Upon discovering this the first time, I wasn't embarrased. Instead, I felt relief that I had actually remembered to brush my teeth that morning.

While nursing Griffin last week, I watched an episode of "Blue's Clues" for at least ten minutes while I was alone in the house. (Noggin - the incurable addiction for toddlers AND their parents.)

I left the boys downstairs watching said Noggin while I ran upstairs to get dressed for the day. While I was gone, Aidan found the remote and changed the channel. I came downstairs and found my four year old and two year old glued to an episode of "E True Hollywood Story." (I think it was on those cute kiddies from Dawson's Creek.)

On two separate occasions, I have dressed and allowed my children to sleep in footie pjs that had socks and/or underwear shoved into the footie. I just never noticed until the next day.

Aidan likes me to help him find words that rhyme. The other night he wanted a word that rhymed with "map". For the life of me, the only word I could think of was "crap."

Chris now has to remind me to turn around to look behind me when I am backing up the car. The first time he did this, I scoffed at him sarcastically and said "fine." But yesterday after I ran over two of the garbage cans, it finally dawned on me that I really DON'T look behind me when I am backing up. Really. Who knew? (Well, except for my very kind and understanding husband that is...)

I completely forgot Chris's work phone number two days ago. He has had the same number for four years. Four years. Huh.

I need to believe my mind will return someday. Someday, right?

The Little Things

Griffin is fully recovered and was cleared by his doctor at the end of last week. Now if I only can convince him that I can put him down for five minutes. It seems he got a little used to being carried around and sleeping on good ol' mom and dad - so now we may have a little problem. Ah well. It's a good problem.

Even better? Griffin is now smiling. Smiling and cooing and entertaining his brothers to no end. Aidan and Brennan are beyond delighted with this new discovery and compete to see who can get the bigger reaction out of our little guy. Baby smiles - such a little thing, but truly a beautiful thing.

Life

Life feels overwhelming lately. It started with Griffin contracting RSV, bronchitis and a double ear infection. We were at the doctor's everyday last week - just trying to keep the little guy from being admitted to Children's Hospital. He needed help breathing, has been on two different antibiotics, and had to have a shot of drugs to help with his infection. He doesn't feel well and it shows. He wants to be held all day and night by either Chris or me or he screams bloody murder.

Not only do I feel physically exhausted from caring for my sick newborn, but the guilt that he is sick is suffocating. Somehow, I blame myself for his sickness. It has to be my fault.

On Friday, Chris's cousin passed away. He was 26 years old and was a good, kind person. He had spent half his life battling cancer. While his passing meant the physical suffering ended for him, there are no words to express the grief of his family and friends. I do not know how his parents and sister will go on. I do not know where you find the strength to endure the loss of a child. And I can only question a world where a person so young, so kind and so loved, has to endure so much.

We had the wakes this weekend and the funeral today. They were all heartbreaking. Tears flooded my eyes as I watched my husband cry as he carried his cousin's casket to the beautiful sounds of "Saints Go Marching On".

In the midst of all of this, Chris took Maya, our black labrador, to the vet on Saturday for her annual check up. She has been limping a bit the last few weeks, but we had attributed this to arthritis. We were wrong. Our sweet beautiful dog has bone cancer.

Maya was our baby before we had children. We were insane with love for this dog. And now... this. I don't know how I am going to explain it to the boys, especially Aidan - who just adores her.

I am a positive person. I try to always find the good in every situation. And if I can't find the good, I try and at least find the humor. I'm not sure I can do either right now. I'm just not sure.

Grrrr...

The stomach virus may have spared our little beaner Griffin, but he is now down and out with bronchialitis (spelling? No idea - but then I am sleep deprived and just brain dead.) Poor guy is hacking up a lung. In a new mommy moment, I have had to learn how to use a nebulizer to help my poor child breathe so he can actually eat.

Just tired, so very tired. I want my life to be about the normal and mundane. Enough with the viruses and flus and bizarre medical contraptions. Sigh.